Reid Alert
by PeculiarMadmoiselle
Summary: A collection of one-sand short stories featuring Dr. Spencer Reid spanning all seasons. Includes suspense, hurt/comfort, horror, cross-overs, and maybe some humor or romance (not usually my forte, but who knows). Some stories may warrant a higher rating, which will be noted in the respective chapters. *Note: Depravity was originally one story, but my schedule makes short form ideal
1. Depravity: Part 1

_Arcadia, Michigan_

 _Holiday Inn_

 _1:14 AM_

Toss, turn. Toss, turn. He was asleep, but barely. Dreams, no – sensations, flashed by occasionally. Ass grabbed. Warm, foul breath traveling down his beck from behind. A dirty hand over his mouth. Scratches down his bare back. And penetration.

It had been three months since Reid had been released from Milburn and the memories were as vivid as ever. He often wondered if telling his friends, his team, what really happened behind those walls would help, but he was too ashamed. He was an FBI agent with decades of experience and he couldn't even protect himself on a daily basis. Sure, he had finally been able to get himself into solitary, but unknown to the team he spent his first few weeks as a toy for the other inmates.

Another hour passed. He was finally asleep, but he was back there in Milburn during the worst of it. Three inmates in his cell had forced him against the wall, gagged him, punched him in the gut and threw him onto his cot. He told his bureau assigned therapist about it, but he only told her about the physical abuse. Now they were pulling down his scrubs.

 _No, no, no._

He knew what was coming. He heard the laughter.

But this time he threw them off of him. His strength was otherworldly. And his revolver was there. He grabbed it and ran out of the cell. Strangely enough no one else was around. No guards, no inmates, just him. He ran down a flight of stairs and then another.

Right in the center of the dark hallway he reached was Cat. She was laughing – laughing in that mocking, menacing way that made him want to crush he fragile neck. He pointed the revolver, but someone else screamed. Someone from another cell? But it was a woman. It didn't make any sense. Before he had any more time to think he was pinned to the floor by a powerful force.

 _REID!_

What was happening?

 _REID!_ (They screamed his name even louder.)

His eyes flashed open and he was face to face with Morgan, pinned to the floor of the motel hallway floor. He was so confused.

"Reid, what the fuck are you doing, man?" Morgan asked, his voice pained and also confused.

He glanced to the spot where Cat had stood. A young woman cowered next to a cart filled with toilet paper, towels and cleaning supplies. She was crying.

"I… I don't know," he rasped.

 _Arcadia, Michigan_

 _Arcadia Police Station_

 _3:46 AM_

"Where did this come from? I thought he was ready. He told us he was fine. The goddamn therapist cleared him," Rossi exclaimed as he, Morgan and Emily stared at Reid through the one-way glass barrier of an interrogation room.

A local detective finished interviewing him ten minutes ago and they were waiting for the officer's higher up team to deliberate on how to proceed. It was a unique situation. They were there to help the local authorities catch a serial arsonist – simple enough case. They had already narrowed down a few strong suspects. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"PTSD can have delayed reactions," said Emily, disconnected from her words as she stared at one of her dearest friends shivering behind the glass despite the blanket draped over him.

"I don't get it though. We've been on at least, what? Twelve cases? We kept him out of the field as much as possible. He's never shown any signs that he would do something like this… I've never even seen him sleepwalk before," Morgan retorted.

The detective finally rounded the corner and met them in the hall.

"Good news – they're not going to press charges. The cleaner was shaken up, but she has a husband in Iraq – said she understood the circumstances," he explained.

Each BAU member breathed a silent sigh of relief. All they needed was Reid back in a courtroom.

"But we're going to have to move you all to another hotel. And we can't have him on this case," he continued.

"We understand completely," said Emily with sincerity.

In all honesty she had a feeling something wasn't right with her friend. He was acting almost _too_ normal. When Maeve was murdered his reaction was expected, but such resilience after what he had gone through the last year just didn't make sense. It was obvious he wasn't telling them the whole story of how he was coping and also what happened inside the prison.

"We hope he gets the help he needs," the detective said with a brief nod and a weak smile before unlocking the door.

Emily took the lead and slowly approached Reid, looking up at her with guilt in his eyes.

"Let's get you home," she said calmly.


	2. Depravity: Part 2

AUTHORS NOTE: Reid's time in prison is my original vision for this fic with the exception of the reveal of Cat and Lindsey as the perpetrators. Also, I'm less familiar with the newer characters so they will not be as involved as the core team [Prentiss, Rossi, J.J, Garcia, Morgan (Yeah, he never left, I'm in denial.)] And finally, flashbacks to Reid in prison will be interwoven through the fic as parallels to the main plot. So if you were hoping for more than they accomplished with that arc, I hope my version will be more what you were hoping for. I know it is for me. Thanks for the reviews and like so far. Without further ado, wheels up…

 _Quarantine_

 _Processing Department_

 _Last year_

"Ever suck a dick?" the man in a worn, puce green corduroy jacket asked him across a desk strewn with loose papers, overflowing folders and a greasy bag with the Burger King logo visible.

"Excuse me?" Reid asked slightly shocked by the blunt question as he unconsciously clutching the sides of his state issued cotton jacket.

"Give head, a blow job? Or maybe with your doctorate," he stopped looking down at what appeared to be Reid's file, "you may know it as fellatio?"

"I know what you meant. I just don't know how this is relevant," Reid stated, trying to muster up some shield of integrity against this middle management dirt bag who held the title of "Prison Counselor."

"Well I hate to break it to you, but the higher ups denied your lawyer's request for protective custody – overcrowding is a bitch."

Reid's heart skipped a beat. No one had predicted this. Everyone assumed he'd be under protection. Now on top of being in prison at all he had to worry about being found out as a member of law enforcement.

"These people do understand I _put_ men like these in prison?" Reid pressed.

"Yeah, but a bed is a bed. They don't have one, that's it. If one opens up they might transfer you. On the plus side, in the paperwork your lawyer sent over we've been able to identify anyone you may have encountered in the field so you won't be in contact again. And hey, maybe you'll get lucky and get a cell. The last place you want to be is in the dorms."

"But seriously… answer my question, kid."

"No… I haven't. Happy?" Reid snapped, feeling his anger growing. If Mr. Scratch was in fact behind this he wanted to shoot him square in the forehead himself.

"Personally, I really don't care. I'm just asking so I can prepare you for what's going to happen before you go crying to some guard," he said as he stuffed his mouth with a few fries scraped from the bottom of the bag.

"You're a pretty boy. Fresh meat. A big ole ribeye steak in the eyes of those hungry fuckers. All you need to know your best bet is to find the biggest, meanest motherfucker and ask for protection. And that comes with a price. He's probably make you suck him off first and then if he likes what he gets he'll fuck you. But no one will mess with you after that, kid. You'll be his bitch, but it's better than half the general population jumping you in the shower. And like I said, don't even bother complaining to the guards. They'll label you a snitch and that's worse than a Chester."

Reid felt nauseous. Of course he knew about prison culture. He just never thought he'd end up in one to use that knowledge.

"Ok, well, that's it, bud. All I can say is good luck," he said, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Reid felt the strong urge to vomit as he was escorted out of the small office back into processing.

 _A week after Michigan_

Reid felt as if he were in a school principal's office as he sat in one of two chairs facing Prentiss' empty desk. He tried to avoid glancing at it, but it was messier than he'd ever seen it with papers scattered and circular coffee stains here and there. However, a framed picture of the team was still visible. It was from a night of bowling Morgan insisted on. Reid couldn't help but laugh to himself as he remembered how frustrated Morgan progressively got as Reid's team kicked his ass. He underestimated his friend. Bowling was pure physics and Reid knew physics. But it was all in good fun. Despite their work, they had many good times before everything went down in Mexico.

He wondered what was keeping her. She had said to wait for her while she grabbed some paperwork. Was this it? Was he being terminated? Honestly, he wouldn't blamed them. He had felt tainted for years – even more so after Maeve was murdered in front of him. Although Reid didn't consider himself to be superstitious, he couldn't shake the feeling that some force was always assaulting him. As much as he tried to refuse becoming a victim that was how it always played out. So why _would_ they keep him if he was such a liability?

Prentiss entered the room with a sigh causing Reid to jump as he was jerked out of his trance of thoughts. She looked like she was about to say something, but hesitated and again let out a small sigh.

"Sorry about that. I don't know how Hotch stayed so diplomatic sometimes," she said, shaking her head.

Hotch. He had avoided thinking about him. When he was locked up Hotch was the person he wished he could have seen the most, but he obviously understood he couldn't risk jeopardizing his new identity with Mr. Scratch still out there. However, Scratch was no longer a threat. No one on the team expected Hotch to come racing back, but Reid had hoped for something more than the awkward phone call they exchanged. Hotch was sorry he couldn't help and Reid said he understood. Reid asked him what he was going to do now that he could come out of hiding. Hotch said he had built a comfortable life for Jack and himself and he intended to continue it. Hotch noted that Reid could call him if he needed him and Reid thanked him quietly. What else was there to say? Reid certainly couldn't think of anything – so he wished him the best and said goodbye. That was the last time they spoke.

"Yeah, he good at that," Reid agreed quietly.

She sat down and folded her hands, gazing at her friend and teammate a moment before she spoke.

"Reid, we're all really worried about you. Look, we understand what you've gone through. As much… I don't even know how to describe it really - bad luck? Well, as much bad luck as everyone on this team has dealt with I think we can all agree you've had it the worst. I don't know if I'd even be on this team if… well, my point is that everyone has a limit. And these nightmares or sleepwalking incidents, maybe that's your brain telling you something. Maybe it's telling you've reached a breaking point-"

"You all think I should resign then," Reid stated flatly.

"Actually, no. Most of us have known you since you were only a few years out of the academy. We know you by now and we know that despite everything you need to be on this team. But we also know that you need to take some time to heal – at least for a few months," she explained.

"So you want me to go on a leave of absence?" he asked, still refraining from projecting any emotion.

"You could call it that," she said as she opened her drawer and took out a USB drive.

"I'm not going to have you sitting in your apartment for three months. I know that won't do anyone any good. You need to keep yourself busy and this project will."

"What kind of project?" he asked, unintentionally exposing a hint of interest in what resided on that USB drive.

"There's a program out of D.C called Inside Out. Former inmates, either low-level offenders or those falsely accused, who have rebuilt their lives after prison travel all over the country to coach current inmates who are within six months of being released. They help them plan for the future, but also talk through any trauma they may have went through on the inside."

"Oh, great, so you want me to be a glorified social worker," Reid scoffed.

"I didn't expect you to automatically be on board. But please, Reid, try it. Because I think the thing that helps you get by the most is helping people. And most of these inmates are the ones who have been through a lot – like you did."

Did she know what really happened? He looked at her face, but she wasn't giving any indication one way or the other. Reid knew he couldn't take any chances. He wouldn't be able to look at any of them in the eye. He had to get away.

"Ok, I'll try it," he said.

Emily looked a bit confused – she had likely expected him to fight more.

"Ok… great," she said, still puzzled but obviously pleased with his willingness. "All the information for your first ten cases is on this drive. You can leave as early as tomorrow but I figured-"

"No, tomorrow is fine," he said quickly.

"Oh, okay, great. Well each case lasts a week so I'll make sure your flights and hotels are booked by tonight," she said, still expressing a mixture of surprise and contentment.

"Great. Have a great ten weeks," he said as he grabbed the USB drive and headed for the door.

"Hey, Reid-" she started, but he was gone.


End file.
